Just a Game
by EatADickClark
Summary: At this point, it's just a game.


Just a Game

By EatADickClark

Emerald watched Mercury as he carefully observed every aspect of the chess board between them. The game was in full swing, with each piece in a precarious position and every move threatening to end the game. Neither side was any nearer to victory than the other; both opponents were well aware of this. Emerald could see the eyes of her opponent exploring the red and green squares for any secret passages that would lead his pieces closer to the final goal. Nearly every piece capable of doing something to advance the game, it was merely a matter of deciding which would bring the game closest to its conclusion.

"Well," said Mercury. "You've certainly not made the decision easy for me. I suppose I can at least give you that much." Then, with an animated flick of his wrist he took Emerald's rook with his queen. "Check. You're move."

Emerald weighed her options, her king's wellbeing at risk. She searched the board for every opportunity to save her chance at victory. Each option she had seemed to be satisfactory, but in a game this close, satisfactory just wasn't going to cut it. Reaching a decision, she takes his queen with her rook.

"Nice, nice." Mercury went back to studying the board, looking for another chance at Emerald's king. Emerald watched him search the board, following his gaze. Every option he had was a great move, and she could tell that he was merely cherry picking his moves at this point. Mercury took her rook with his queen. "Checkmate."

"Damn!" Emerald slammed her hands on the table, knocking over all the pieces except for Mercury's king. "I hate playing with you. You always win; it's not even fair at this point."

"Come on, Em: it's just a game."

Emerald stared into her mug, following the lines in the milk on the surface of her latte. She'd seen pictures before of art drawn with milk by rather talented baristas. They'd drawn flowers and hearts and all sorts of pleasing images. It was beyond her how they managed it; she tried it herself of few times before, but only managed to make a mess of her drink. As she looks at it now, the milk formed an indistinguishable shape, left over from when her drink was prepared. She considered taking a stirrer and making an attempt at an image, but she'd already finished half of her drink. It was far too late for her to do anything at this point.

"And of course you aren't even listening."

Emerald was pulled from her thoughts by the voice of the woman sitting across from her. She apologized for her being bad company as she lifted her drink to her lips. As she took another sip, she thought how she ought to drink faster the next time she orders a latte. It had gotten cold before she could finish it. Emerald didn't like a cold latte, but at this point it was what she was left with.

"You are always miles away, you know that?" The blonde haired woman across from her talked to her in a tone that was almost like a mother scolding her child. "You can't even finish your latte before it gets cold. You do this _a latte..._ "

Emerald only nodded in response. She had not listened to a word her companion had said, realizing too late that she had said anything at all.

"Get it," the woman said hopefully. " _A latte?_ Like, 'a lot?' And you're drinking a latte... Never mind, you're no fun at all."

The latte was unappealing to Emerald in its current chilled state, but despite this she still found herself drinking it. Almost as if to compensate for taking too long to drink it before, she took larger drinks, wincing at the taste after each one. After a few more swigs, she set down the empty mug. Emerald sat back, with an accomplished look on her face.

"Congratulations," the other woman said. "You finished a cold latte. What a trial that had to have been for you. You're truly the hero of our time. For you, drinking cold drinks isn't just a game."

Emerald sat at her desk, slowly typing away on the keyboard in front of her. She watched the letters and numbers go across the screen before her. None of it made sense to her. Her hands typed with certainty, but her eyes didn't seem to be included in this action. The clicking of the mechanical keys sounded out to her, over and over again, falling into a repetitive pattern. The keys clicked brightly, followed always by the deeper sound of the spacebar being hit. The pattern became a rhythm, Emerald nodding her head to the beat without meaning to. It seemed that every part of Emerald was doing something, but each had neglected to invite her to understand it.

"Hey Emerald?"

All the autonomous motion halted in unison, returning control of the body to Emerald. She let out a sigh of relief, rubbing her hands together as if to reassure herself that they were still hers. In this moment of peculiar reunion, she'd forgotten about the voice that had brought her back.

"Are you okay?" The source of the voice was a girl in red, holding some sort of garden tool in her hands. "You seem kind of... out of it."

"What is that?" Emerald pointed to the tool in the girl's hands. Such a device seemed so out of place in the office setting the Emerald found herself in now.

"Oh, this," the girl said, holding the tool up for a better view of it. "It's a scythe."

"Why do you have it?"

"Because-," the girl paused, thinking for a moment. "I actually don't know. Must have forgot what I was supposed to do with it. Anyway, Mercury wanted me to ask you if you were playing chess with him at lunch."

"Yes," Emerald said. She looked at her clock to see what time it was, and how long she had until lunch. She saw the time and turned back to the girl, but realized she already forgotten what time it was.

"It's lunch time now," said the scythe wielding girl. "He's waiting for you. But at this point, you might not have enough time to eat and play."

"Oh," said Emerald with an amount of disappointment in her voice that shocked her when she heard it. Her shoulders fell at the thought that maybe she hadn't regained full control of herself again.

"Oh no," the girl said as she ran to comfort the gloomy looking Emerald. She leaned the scythe against the desk, and grabbed Emerald's hand. Emerald saw her rubbing her hand comfortingly, but she couldn't quite tell if she was actually feeling it, or just expecting to feel it. "Don't be sad, Emerald. It'll be okay. It's just a game."

Emerald watched Mercury as he carefully observed every aspect of the chess board between them. The game was in full swing, with each piece in a precarious position and every move threatening to end the game. Mercury's pieces were all poised to take Emerald's king at any moment; both opponents were well aware of this. Emerald could see the eyes of her opponent exploring the red and green squares for any secret passages that would lead his pieces to the final goal. Nearly every piece capable of ending the game, it was merely a matter of deciding which would bring the game to its conclusion most spectacularly.

"Well," said Mercury. "You've certainly made the decision easy for me. I suppose I can at least give you that much." Then, with an animated flick of his wrist he took Emerald's rook with his queen. "Check. You're move."

Emerald weighed her options, her king's wellbeing at risk. She searched the board for every opportunity to save her chance at victory. Each option she had seemed to be unsatisfactory, but in a game this near to a close, unsatisfactory just wasn't going to cut it. Reaching a decision, she takes his queen with her rook.

"Nice, nice." Mercury went back to studying the board, looking through his many other chances at Emerald's king. Emerald watched him search the board, following his gaze. Every option he had would be the final move, and she could tell that he was merely cherry picking his moves at this point. Mercury took her rook with his queen. "Checkmate."

"Damn!" Emerald slammed her hands on the table, knocking over all the pieces except for Mercury's king. The king never fell. She couldn't take it in the game. She couldn't even knock it over outside the game. She shook the table, and while the king would rock: it wouldn't tumble. At this point, she became frustrated, shaking the table violently. But it still would not fall.

"Come on, Em: it's just a game."

Emerald stared into her mug, following the lines in the milk on the surface of her latte. She'd seen pictures before of art drawn with milk by rather talented baristas. They'd drawn flowers and hearts and all sorts of pleasing images. It was beyond her how they managed it; she tried it herself of few times before, but only managed to make a mess of her drink. As she looks at it now, the milk formed the shape of heart. She considered taking a stirrer and making an attempt at changing the image, but she'd already finished half of her drink. It was far too late for her to do anything at this point.

"And of course you aren't even listening."

Emerald was pulled from her thoughts by the voice of the woman sitting across from her. She apologized for her being bad company as she lifted her drink to her lips. As she took another sip, she thought how she ought to drink slower the next time she orders a latte. It had barely cooled before she set to drinking it. Emerald liked a hot latte, but at this point her tongue felt burned by the drink that she had hardly let cool off.

"You're always miles away, you know-"

"Are you good at chess?" Emerald didn't let the blonde haired woman finish her sentence. She already knew what she had to say, but she didn't know why she knew that. "When I'm playing Mercury, I can never beat him. I can't ever take down his king."

"Uh, well," the woman said with hesitation. "I've never been much of a chess player. Always thought it was kind of boring. I never took you for a chess player, either."

"I hate chess," Emerald said. "I just need to get his king. No matter how hard I try, I can never take it down."

"I think you're taking it a little too seriously." The woman reached across the table and rested her hand on Emerald's shoulder. "Maybe you need to take break from chess for a while. After all, it's just a game."

Emerald sat at her desk, slowly typing away on the keyboard in front of her. She watched the letters and numbers go across the screen before her. None of it made sense to her. Her hands typed with certainty, but her eyes didn't seem to be included in this action. She didn't like being excluded from this. She wanted her hands back. The clicking of the keys made a rhythm. A beat. She shook her head, determined not play any part in this typing that her hands excluded her from. She tried to pull her hands from the keyboard. They resisted. The rhythm. The beat returned. She shook heard; kept shaking her head to ignore it. She pulled again at her hands, feeling as though they were about to give at this point. She struggled with them; kept pulling and pulling at-

"Hey Emerald- what's going on? Are you okay?"

Her hands gave way. Emerald turned to the voice behind her. It was a girl with a scythe.

"Is everything all right," the girl asked cautiously. "Do you need a doctor?"

"Why do you have that?" Emerald ignored the offer for a doctor. "It's a scythe. This is an office. Why do you have a scythe? What are you doing with it? Where did it come from?"

The girl held the scythe close her chest, cowering away from the irate Emerald. "I- I don't know. I can't remember. Mercury; he's-"

"It's lunch time." Emerald knew the time without looking at the clock. "I don't have time to play and eat. Are you good at chess?"

"Well," the girl said, frightened by Emerald's behaviour. "I'm not bad at it... what is going on right now?"

"How do I take his king?"

"You have to get a checkmate," the girl, now backed all the way to the wall at this point, away from Emerald. "Or something like that. I'm not the best at chess, I'm just not bad."

"I hate chess. Do you like chess, Ruby?"

"It's- it's okay I guess. I mean, it's just a game."

Mercury took Emerald's rook with his queen.

"Checkmate."

Emerald stared at the bored. She could barely even remember the game. And yet, here she was now, wondering what she'd done wrong. All the pieces were lying on their sides, except for Mercury's king. She didn't remember how they got like that, and she didn't care. Her eyes never left the king. She reached out to grab it. Mercury gently grabbed her hand, stopping her.

"Come on, Em: it's just a game."

"Why," Emerald said as she pulled her hand out from Mercury's grasp. "Why won't you're king go down? Why don't I beat you?"

"Don't beat yourself up about it," Mercury said arrogantly. "It's just a game-"

"Stop that," Emerald snapped at him. "Stop saying that. Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"What are you even talking about?" Mercury chuckled at Emerald, finding her panicked behaviour amusing. "You're cute when you're flustered. You know that?"

"This is not the lunch room, Mercury. This is a warehouse. Why are we in a warehouse, when it is supposed to be lunch time?"

"Because we're here to steal things: that's what we do." Mercury leaned forward towards the chess board, placing a finger lightly on the top of the still standing king. He rocked it back and forth, eliciting a gasp out of Emerald every time it nearly tipped over.

"I was at an office, with Ruby. Why was I there, when I don't work at an office? And why was I with her? And her sister, at the coffee shop."

"I don't know," Mercury said, stilling rocking the king. "You tell me. You're the one freaking out."

"Stop that." Emerald pointed at the king, which Mercury had started to spin around in response to her request. "Knock it off."

Mercury defied her again, rocking and spinning it more aggressively at this point.

"I'm not going to ask again." Emerald pulls out one of her custom revolvers and points it at Mercury.

Mercury continued to play with chess piece for a moment longer before stopping, leaving his finger resting on the tip of it.

"Really, Emerald: it's just a game."

With a light tap of his finger, he knocks the king on its side.

Emerald opens fire without thinking. She unloads the revolver's munitions into Mercury's chest. The revolver clicked continuously as she pulled the trigger long after she emptied it. When she stopped, she realized exactly what she had done. It wasn't like before: she was the one controlling her hand this time. Refusing to look at Mercury, Emerald stared at the floor. The dust and dirt on the ground formed the shape of heart, just like the one she'd seen in her latte before. She considered taking her hand and making an attempt at changing the image, but she'd already lost feeling in it again. It was far too late for her to do anything at this point.

Emerald stared at the ceiling, her face covered in sweat. Her body was shaking in fear from something she couldn't quite remember. The ceiling was plain and white, with no patterns to be seen. There was the sound of clock, ticking every second. The sound had no rhythmic beat, other than the monotonous persistence that is to be expected of a clock counting the passing of time. It made sense to Emerald. She turned her head to look at the clock, and then turned back to face the ceiling. It was just after six in the morning. The noise of sheets rustling to her right catches her attention.

"Ugh," Mercury said drowsily. "Are you alright over there? I heard you moaning and turning about over there. I was beginning wonder if I should be jealous or not, but it looks like you're all alone over there. What's up?"

"I think," Emerald started. "I think I had a nightmare. Or something."

"How lame," Mercury said as he laid his back down on his pillow. "You'll be fine. It's just a dream."


End file.
